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The cheap, plastic, cafeteria chairs were very rigid and uncomfortable. Alex's answer to this, a perfectly obvious solution to her, was to lay down length-wise on her stomach on top of one of the tables themselves. From this position, she could sprawl however she liked and had plenty of room around her to comfortably listen to her ipod, partake of her chips and soda (ultra-healthy, she knows), and read her tabloid magazine. Well... not so much read as flip-through; she was more interested in the clearly-photo-shopped pictures of everything from Bigfoot to celebrity scandals than the poorly-written stories which accompanied them.

It was in the back of her mind that a teacher or even some uptight student might take issue with her unique usage of the furniture but no one had said anything yet, at least not directly to her; she had heard a few snickers through the music of her earphones and seen a few bemused smirks over the top of her magazine, but such things were of no consequence to Alex. She was comfortable and that was really all that mattered, as far as she was concerned. It was the same justification, not that she needed to justify anything she did to anyone, that she used to explain her wardrobe choices.

These, of course, were mere background thoughts. Her focus was much more on the delicious burn of pressing a mouthful of highly-carbonated coke to the roof of her mouth with her tongue and the smirk-inducing image of of the president shaking hands with an alien ambassador beneath the dramatic caption of "Exclusive from Inside Area 51".

Passing by with his lunch tray, Deag actually had to stop and do a double take at the sight of the babe stretched out atop the cafeteria table. It was probably the hottest thing he had ever seen and he instantly changed his course without a second thought. He had to talk to her, whoever she was.

Deag slid smoothly into a seat near her left shoulder and deposited his lunch on the seat next to him as the table was occupied. "Hello there." he grinned at her, thinking she probably couldn't hear him and mostly likely didn't want any company as she had her headphones in, but that didn't deter him in the least.

Alex returned the greeting promptly on auto-pilot but, as per usual, did not so much as glance away from what she was doing to see who had offered it. At least, she didn't at first. A heartbeat later though, she did a double-take of her own; who would sit at this table while she was laying on top of it? Even she wouldn't have done something like that, if only because it would limit the room she had access to on said table.

Turning her head slightly to the left and lowering her magazine almost imperceptibly to glance sidelong over the top of its pages; the first thing Alex noticed was that his access to the table clearly was limited, as evidenced by his lunch tray residing on the seat next to him. Only after that acknowledgment did her gaze slide on to him himself, head still bobbing to her music the entire time.

Okay, so Alex was neither a romantic nor a particularly girly-girl. She didn't swoon at the site of Brad Pitt and she'd never really had many opportunities to have "girl-talk", what with being raised and taught in a secluded castle by her father. Still, she recognized hot when she saw it and that was an awfully big grin he was giving her. Her head-bobbing faltered briefly and she lowered the magazine more, enough so to show her face and the small smile which adorned it, a mere fraction the size of his own toothy grin but still an impressively open display of emotions by her standards.

"I'm Alex." Before she could stop herself, she added an offer that immediately wiped the happiness away from her expression and turned her already-non-expressive tone into one of reluctance.

"You want me to scootch a bit so ya can put yo' food up here?" She was really very comfortable just like she was.

Hey, sorry I took so long to reply, but I'm back from Christmas break now.

"Naw, I'm good." Deag answered, putting his large feet up on the chair across from him, his long legs stretched out beneath the table. He snatched up a bag of cheetos from the tray beside him and opened them with a tiny 'pop' sound.

"Cheeto?" he offered her. "I hear they cause cancer. Watcha readin'?" he looked curiously at the questionable cover of her periodical, but didn't linger on it long as her cute face was much more interesting, and the soft-looking exposed skin of her shoulder that happened to be right in front of his face courtesy of their unusual seating arrangement.

“Meh, if I ain’t got cancer yet, I’m prob’ly immune.” Alex responded as she thought about all the experiments her dad had done on her over the years, smirking at his choice not to introduce himself in turn and wondering if that was some kinda hard-to-get flirting technique, assuming she wasn’t totally off on the whole dynamic of the conversation. Not that she cared, she mentally reminded herself, her eyes focused on her magazine once again even as she reached over and blindly pawed a couple times before coming back with several Cheetos clutched between her fingers. Popping those into her mouth, she answered his next question while crunching on them happily.

“Heh, not ‘zactly reading really but uh…” Her gaze scrolled up from the image at the bottom of the currently-open page and, glazing over the columns of text in between, rested on the title of its story.

“Area 51 Discovered in the Heart of Los Angeles.” Alex read matter-of-factly, licking cheese dust off her fingers before taking a draught of Pepsi. Casting him a sidelong glance before returning her attention to the tabloid and flipping the page, she raised one brow appraisingly.